


Your Veil Is Ruined In The Rain

by orphan_account



Category: Marianas Trench
Genre: M/M, i mean they are in a psychiatrist's office, mental illness mention, short af but im pretty happy with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6542818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh and Matt meet in a psychiatrist's office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Veil Is Ruined In The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from Brand New’s “The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows,” a very bittersweet and ‘morbidly romantic’ song that tells of an unstable relationship, cheating, and according to some interpretations, suicide. I’ve always thought the vibe of that song connected with my experiences having a mental illness and seeing psychologists/psychiatrists. Whenever I went to therapy I’d always be worried that I’d see someone I knew or that someone would talk to me, but at the same time the idea fascinated me. Here’s a little one-shot about Josh and Matt meeting in a psychiatrist’s office.

The walls are a vaguely comforting yet starkly clinical shade of beige. Josh determines this as he squints at them, tilting his head to better analyze the off-putting color. The clock on the wall ticks all too loudly and all too slowly. Josh arrived way too early, stashing his bike near the side of the building and pulling his hood up against the harsh Vancouver rain as he dashed inside. Now he sits in a plastic chair, cushioned on the seat and back, and waits impatiently for his hour of meaningless psychoanalysis to begin. He understands why he has to see Dr. Roscoe every week; someone has to make sure he's eating, taking his meds, and not on the verge of doing anything drastic. He just thinks all the brain-picking is pointless. It only dredges up bad memories and makes him feel shittier, and if he has to be going somewhere he'd rather be moving forwards.  
The door opens, interrupting his internal monologue. A boy walks in who reminds Josh a lot of himself - hood up, slouched over, hands in pockets. When he sits down in a chair on the opposite side of the room and pulls the hood off his head of curly brown hair, Josh recognizes him. He's that guy Matt Something from band, and now that Josh thinks about it, he's in choir, too. Josh casts his gaze down at his hands, which disappear into the overly long sleeves of his hoodie. But it's too late. When he looks up again, Matt Something is examining him, probably trying to figure out if they've met before. Then he speaks, words piercing sharply through the silent air.  
“You're in choir, right? And band?”  
Josh is startled that Matt’s talking to him, but not perturbed.  
“Yeah.”  
Matt nods. “Thought I recognized you.”  
Then it's silent again. Matt looks to the side, probably trying to puzzle out why the color of the walls won't let him sit still. Soon enough, the silence begins to weigh down on the room, thick and fuzzy and smothering. Matt can’t stand it.  
“So what are you in for?”  
Josh laughs. It’s short and humorless. “What am I in for?” He tries out the question on his tongue, marvelling at its casual morbidity.  
“What are _you_ in for?” Josh asks, meeting Matt’s gaze.   
Matt shrugs. “Anxiety. ADHD. They say I need meds to help my grades and stuff.” He looks expectantly at Josh. “Now back to my original question?”  
Josh lets out a deep breath. “I, um… well, okay. Depression and eating disorders.” He quickly averts his gaze to his hands, fiddling with his sleeves.  
“Heavy,” Matt says, looking at Josh sympathetically. After a beat, he speaks again. “We’ve never talked before.”  
“No, I don’t think so,” Josh mumbles to the floor.  
“You’re older than me, right?”  
“I’m a junior,” Josh says.  
“Ah,” Matt nods, “right.”  
Silence threatens to blanket the room again.  
“Trombone is cool,” Josh says quietly.  
“Huh?”  
“I said trombone is cool.” Josh looks at Matt and speaks louder this time.  
“Thanks,” Matt smiles.  
“You play anything else?”  
“Guitar. Piano. And, well, you know I sing.”  
“Nice. The trinity of essential instruments.” A smile begins to form at the corners of Josh’s lips. “Me too. Among other things.”  
“Wow,” Matt comments. “You know, we’ve got a lot in common. I’m not sure why we’ve never really met before.”  
“And we’re both fucked up.” Josh laughs but he’s only half-joking.  
“Everyone’s fucked up,” Matt tells Josh, leaning over the chair’s armrest towards him. “And everyone ends up different places because of it. We just ended up here.”  
Josh lets Matt’s words sink in before saying, “That’s one way of looking at it.”  
Suddenly the door opens and a middle-aged woman with graying hair falling on her shoulders opens the door.  
“Matt, you want to come on back?” She says, smiling kindly. Matt gives Josh one last glance before standing up and walking towards her.  
“Hey, wait,” Josh says, leaning forwards in his chair as Matt approaches the door. Matt turns and looks at him questioningly.   
“What’s your last name?” Josh asks.  
“Webb,” Matt replies, a smile tickling the edges of his lips, then disappears through the doorway behind his psychiatrist.


End file.
